


Two Halves of a Whole Idiot

by Kymiex



Category: Jacksepticeye- Fandom, Markiplier- Fandom, Septiplier- Fandom, Youtube RPF
Genre: And Mark swears more than Jack does which is odd I guess, Chica does not like Jack, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots don't realize they're in love, Idiots in Love, It's just a dog bite, M/M, Minor Injuries, Nothing life threatening but there is blood, That seems to be a theme with me, They're so cute though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kymiex/pseuds/Kymiex
Summary: Jack's flight out of the US is cancelled, so he stays with Mark for a while. Which would be great.. If Mark's dog didn't want to eat the Irishman. And maybe if Mark wasn't hiding his feelings for aforementioned Irishman..





	1. Chapter 1

It's been a long few days. PAX has finally wound down, and Jack had come back with Mark to his house because of shitty weather- All flights were being cancelled, including the one Jack was supposed to be on. 

'I've got enough videos t' keep th' channel on schedule fer a few more days, at least.. But I don't-..' Mark had been leaning against the wall, watching Jack pace around the small lobby in the airport. 'But the hotel- I don't- I can't-' 

Mark had stepped forward, grabbing Jack's arm to keep him still. 'So just come stay with me. I'm not just gonna leave you stranded in an airport, Seán.' Jack's cheeks had gone a little pink, perhaps at the use of his real name, but he nodded, and mumbled a soft 'Thanks, Mark.' 

It's probably the first time Jack has really had a chance to wind down in at least a week, between pre-recording videos for PAX, the flight to America, the convention itself, and trying to get back home.. Mark isn't really surprised when he comes out of the bathroom after his shower and sees the Irishman asleep on the couch. He's on his side, his arms wrapped around himself, and that bright green hair fanning out over his forehead. 

It takes Mark a few moments to realize he's staring, and he quickly turns, towelling his hair dry as he heads for his bedroom. It's not like Mark has ever really been dishonest with himself about the way he felt for Jack.. Ever since he met the loud little Irishman, he's had something for him. But Jack had a girlfriend when they first met, and, just.. Mark had never had a reason to being it up. 

It wouldn't work between the two of them. He knew that. He'd do anything for Jack, but with an ocean between them, he knew it wouldn't work. 

No reason to put a strain on their friendship that didn't have to be there. 

The next morning, Mark is startled awake by shouting- _screaming_ \- and barking coming from the living room. 'Fuck!' He launches out of bed, almost tripping in his attempt to get to Jack. 

'Chica, no! Down, girl, no!' Jack is buried in the corner of the couch, clutching a pillow as Chica tries to dig through it to get to him. Mark launches himself at the dog, and manages to wrestle her away from Jack. 'Bad! Bad Chica, no!' He pulls her back, but she's determined to attack the stranger on her couch. 

'Get to my room and shut the door!' Jack scrambles from the couch, running full-tilt down the hallway and slamming the door behind him. Mark wrestles Chica out the door and shuts her outside, leaving her barking at the patio door and spinning in circles on the deck. 

Mark takes a deep breath, muttering curses at the dog under his breath. He pads down the hallway, knocking softly on the bedroom door before he opens it. 'Jack? You okay, m-' Mark nearly has a heart attack then and there when he sees Jack clutching his bleeding arm to his chest. 

'Fuck! Jesus Christ, Sean, did she bite you? Fuck, lemme see-' Jack starts to babble at the same time Mark does. 'It's fine, she didn't mean it, it's just a scratch, it's nothin' bad-' Mark's heart is hammering in his chest, and he lets out a nervous laugh. 'My dog fucking tried to eat you, and you're defending her?' Jack shifts a little, glancing away, and when he speaks, it's uncharacteristically quiet for Jack. 

'They're always after me lucky charms.' 

Mark is silent, and after a moment he barks out a laugh. 'You must be fine if you're making jokes, you little shit. C'mon, lemme bandage your arm.' Jack nods, and follows Mark to the bathroom. It isn't until they're standing in front of the mirror that Mark realizes he's holding Jack's hand, their fingers linked. 

He knows he's probably red when he disentangles their fingers, and he busies himself with grabbing the bandages to fix up Jack's arm. 

It's a strange thing, to have someone else in the house. Mark is used to being alone- Hell, that was why he got Chica, to combat the loneliness. But.. Having another person here, especially Jack, it's.. Different. Not bad. Just different. Jack seems to be a little thrown by it, too, though that may just be the shock of being awoken and immediately attacked by a golden retriever. 

Jack is sitting at the island in the kitchen, staring down at a bowl of cereal. Mark is leaning against the counter, sipping on a mug of coffee, trying to figure out how he can apologize to Jack, when Jack breaks the silence. 

'Can I.. Have some coffee?' 

Mark wonders if Jack's always this quiet when the cameras are off and it's just him. Mark grabs one of his spare coffee mugs, and pours Jack a cup. 'Anything in it? Milk? Sugar?' He's silent for a moment. 'Bailey's?' Jack cracks a smile, and it's the first time he's looked like himself today. 'Fuckin' arsehole. Just sugar.' He looks like he's made a mistake a few seconds later, and adds a soft 'Please.' 

Things start to add up in Mark's head. Odd little quirks, Jack being oddly quiet. Catching himself and adding 'Please' and 'if you don't mind' to things like Mark was one of his friend's parents that he was trying to be polite to. It bothers Mark, if he's being honest. He and Jack have been friends for years- He hadn't thought they were still in the awkward, 'be polite' phase. 

Jack wanders off for a bit around 10, and it's nearly noon before he comes back. The sleeves of the green and white baseball shirt he's wearing aren't long enough to cover the bandages on his arm, and Mark tries not to feel guilty as Jack shuffles from foot to foot. 

'They just gave me my money back for th' ticket.. Weather in Ireland's still too bad t' fly inta. They said it might be a few more days b'fore they're willin' ta fly in it.' He looks a little nervous, and Mark grins. 'So you're staying a little longer? That's cool with me.' 

Jack looks a little surprised by Mark's reaction, but he gives a little smile. 'Thanks, Mark. D'you- Is it alright if I record a little blog t' put up later? I don't want people to worry.' Mark nods, grinning, and winks at the Irishman. 'Only if I can be in it. You can tell your subscribers I kidnapped you at PAX and they have to meet my demands to get you back! Mwahahahaha!' Jack rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 'Whatever, fuckin' dork.' 

They film a short update blog for Jack's channel- Mark really does burst into the room and tell the camera he's keeping Jack hostage until further notice. Jack apologizes profusely for video delays, and Mark does Jack's outro for him- bad Irish accent and all. 

'If ya liked it, poonch that like button in da butt! Like a boss! And- High fives all around. Wapish, wapish!' Jack is dying laughing beside Mark, and Mark can't help the grin that plasters itself on his face. 'Thank ye, and we will see all you dudes.. In the next video!' 

Jack is wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, and Mark turns to him, glancing back to make sure they're still on camera before he grabs Jack and throws him over his shoulder. Jack is screaming, laughing and flailing as Mark turns and points toward the door, walking toward it. 'Septiplier.. Awaaaaayyyy!' 

He's careful when he puts Jack down beside the door, though, wary of the giggling Irishman's injured arm, and he turns back to turn the camera off. 'I'll edit it for you later, if you want?' Jack is leaning against the doorframe, holding his bandaged arm against his stomach, and he smiles. 

'I can do it, but thank you, Mark.' His grin gets wider, and Mark's heart flutters in his chest to see Jack happy. 'And thank you for helpin' me with th' video.' 

Jack's shoulderblades pressed to the wood, and his hips are tilted away from it. His jeans are perfectly form-fitting, the green and white shirt tight in all the right places. Mark's heart twists itself into knots, and he knows in that moment that he's utterly fucked. Jack is perfect. Beautiful and amazing. The lines of his body, simply.. Intoxicating, and Mark has to force himself to tear his eyes away, to stop staring at the man in front of him, but..

The damage has been done. 

When he looks back up, Jack looks like a frightened rabbit. Before Mark can say anything, before he can even open his mouth, Jack is muttering something quickly, and he bolts out the door, leaving Mark alone in his recording studio. 

Mark shuts himself in for the rest of the afternoon. He can't record- He's fucking miserable, and there's no way he can pretend to be happy on camera and have it be convincing. If he plays a sad game it'll make it worse, and if he plays something that will make him mad, well. He'll just end up breaking something. He can't do anything except sit in his studio and mope. 

God knows where Jack is, what he's doing. It's almost 7pm before Mark finally stumbles out of the studio. The house is dark, and a bolt of regret shoots through him. 

Jack must have gone to a hotel. He must have gathered up his things while Mark was hiding, and.. He's gone. He's fucking gone, and what if that was the last time Mark saw him? 

Mark doesn't even register that he punched the wall until blood drips down his knuckles. He stares down at the blood dripping to the floor, and he scoffs at himself. 'Fucking idiot. Stupid, _motherfucking idiot!'_ He shoves his opposite hand through his hair to get it out of his face, and heads for his bedroom to get bandages for his knuckles. 

He freezes when he throws his bedroom door open. Jack is sitting on his bed, startled by the door opening, but he's there. Curled around himself, arms wrapped around his knees, looking at Mark like he wants to run again, but he doesn't move. Mark stares, and he knows his mouth is open in shock, but he doesn't care. 

Jack uncurls himself, lowering his socked feet to the floor, and he looks up at Mark, biting his bottom lip. 'Mark-' 'I thought you.. Left.' Mark stumbles over his words, and the moment it's out of his mouth, he regrets it. Jack looks hurt, and Mark speaks quickly. 'I'm glad you're not. I mean, I'm glad you didn't leave. I'm.. Sorry, I di-' 

'Mark?' Jack interrupts, his voice quiet as he stands. 'Yeah?' Jack takes a few steps forward, fidgeting with the bandage on his arm. 'I.. D'you..' He takes a breath, seeming to steel himself. 'The way y' looked at me, I.. I wasn't sure.. Mark, talk t' me, please, I-.. I don't understand what's goin' on right now, and it- Please, just-' 

Mark takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. He's inches from Jack, and the shorter male looks up at him, blue eyes wide. 

'I don't know what to tell you, Seán. I'm.. I looked at you the same way I always do. You've just never seen it before.' Jack swallows, and he's almost shaking. 

'Mark..' He reaches for Mark's arm, and the light touch is all it takes for Mark to make up his mind. He leans forward, pressing his lips to Jack's cheek, barely touching the corner of his mouth. When Mark pulls away, there are tears welling up in Jack's eyes, and he's started to shake in earnest. 

'Mark. Mark, I don't- Don't do this to me, please-' Jack's voice shakes, and he's- He's begging, and Mark doesn't know why or what to do. 'I'm sorry, Seán, I..' 

'Don't ye fuckin' tease me, ye bastard!' Jack shouts suddenly. He's shaking and tears are streaming down his cheeks, but there's the Jack that Mark knows. 'Don't fuckin- Fuckin' kiss me and just leave it at that! Not after all this time!'

'After-? Jack, whaddya mean, after all this time?' Jack throws his arms in the air, and he lets out a noise between a huff and a sob. 'God, ye dense bastard! I've been- I've had- Since before we met, I've- I love you, idiot!' 

Mark is a little taken aback, but things click into place in his head. Was that why Jack's been acting so strange around him? How could he have missed this, after all the years they've known each other? 

Mark's eyes are wide as he stares at Jack, but.. He reaches out, grabbing a handful of Jack's shirt and pulls him close. The Irishman's eyes are wide in the split second before Mark presses their lips together, and after a moment, Mark feels hands settle onto his waist. 

Jack's lips are chapped, and he tastes faintly of coffee, and it's honestly the best kiss Mark has had in his life.


	2. Ooh, How I want ya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark interrupts Jack's Introspective Shower Time, and sexytimes occur.

Jesus al-freakin'-mighty, he's so nervous. Yeah, Mark had been accepting when he told him how he felt. More than accepting, what is he thinking? Mark had yanked him forward and kissed him. 

Still.. Seán can't help feeling a bit nervous as he stands under the hot spray of the shower. The bandages on his arm had to come off, and if he rubs at the itchy, healing skin, he can't help it. 

It's been.. An interesting couple of days, to say the least. Getting attacked by Chica had been what started it all, he guessed. After that, when they recorded the vlog for Jack's channel, seeing the way Mark looked at him.. Like he was precious, like he was made of diamond or some shite like that. Jack isn't even sure how to describe it, but Mark had looked at him like he was all he's ever wanted. 

And it had terrified Jack. Mark had never looked at him like that, like he was a starving man and Jack was a three course meal. 

Jack leans his head against the tile of the shower wall, and closes his eyes as he shifts closer to the spray, hot water coursing down his back. 

He's been hiding a crush on Mark since long before they actually met. And to have him look at him like that, after years of hiding his crush? He hadn't known how to deal with it. 

He had run away, had stumbled over 'I gotta- I need to- Go, I-' as he bolted from the room. And when Mark had stayed in his recording room, had locked himself in? It just made Jack feel like he was the one who had done something wrong. 

He'd considered leaving. By the time Mark came out of his recording room, he had been ready to give up and gather his things. 

_If he doesn't want to see me, he certainly won't want me in his house._

But then the door had opened, and there was Mark, and he wasn't angry to see Jack still there. Jack's heart had dropped through the bottom of his chest the moment Mark's lips had touched his own, and he felt empty when he pulled away. 

Jack is ripped from the hurricane of thoughts that keep flitting through his mind when he hears the door open and quietly snap shut. He turns toward the noise, but he can't see much through the glass, just a blurry shape in the same color as the hoodie Mark was wearing. 

He feels suddenly exposed, even if the glass between them means that Mark can't see him, and he shifts slightly. 'Mark?' He calls, and the half-Korean man hums softly. 'Sorry, I just- I forgot I used the last towels this morning, and I-' There's a short pause, and Mark clears his throat. 'I brought you some. Towels, I mean, I brought- Uh. I washed- I mean, they're clean, I just-' Jack takes a deep breath, and cracks open the shower door, peeking out at the embarrassed man on the other side of the glass. 'Mark.' 

The other man's rambling ceases as soon as his name leaves the Irishman's lips, and Jack gives him a little smile. 'Thank you, Mark.' 

Mark grins, his eyes flick down, and Jack's breath catches. 

It's the same look that Mark was giving him earlier. Mark is staring at him like he hung the sun, the moon, and all the stars, and it makes Jack's stomach tie itself in knots. Mark's hands are curled into fists and his entire body looks like he's straining to keep himself in check. His eyes are focused on Jack's collarbone, and the Irishman is suddenly acutely aware of every rivulet of water streaming down his skin. 

Jack's exposed- standing naked, soaking wet, with little more than frosted glass separating them, and Mark is watching water drip down his bare shoulders. Jack thinks his mind may well have stopped working, because it certainly isn't involved in the decision the rest of Jack's body makes when he reaches out to Mark.

Mark takes his hand, linking tan fingers together with Jack's, and he moves forward, knocking the shower door open as he closes the distance between them, capturing Jack's lips with his own. 

Jack's mind has stopped, and his heart isn't far behind. He knows it skips a beat when Mark's lips part, his teeth grazing Jack's lower lip. He does nothing to stop the whimper that leaves his throat, and it only seems to encourage Mark. 

They part, just long enough for Jack to open his eyes, before Mark is stepping into the shower with him. He either doesn't notice the water soaking through his hoodie or he just doesn't care as he pulls Jack into another searing kiss.

One hand cradles Jack's jaw, fingers trailing over the back of his neck, and the other is pressed against wall beside the green-haired man's head. Jack has both hands curled into Mark's now soaked hoodie, and he feels like the tiled wall behind him is the only thing keeping him standing. 

Mark pulls back just enough for their lips to part, and if he had his wits about him, Jack might be embarrassed about the whine that erupts from his mouth the moment they part. Mark just smirks against his mouth, and nips at Jack's lower lip lightly before swiping his tongue across the skin. 

Jack's so caught up in the kiss that it comes as a shock when Mark presses a thigh between his legs, and he smacks his head against the wall at the contact. He'd been so caught up that it hadn't really registered that he was hard until Mark's thigh had pressed against him. 

Jack's fingers scramble for purchase in Mark's hoodie, jerking him back when Mark pulls away. 'Jesus, Seán, are you o-' Jack lets out a soft growl, blue eyes meeting brown. 'Shut it.' 

Mark raises an eyebrow, but he smirks. Jack doesn't have time to question the wicked glint Mark gets in his eye before the taller man is taking a step back, pushing Jack against the wall. Mark ducks his head, pressing a light kiss to Jack's throat before his lips part, and his teeth graze the Irishman's pulse. 

'God- Fuck, Mark!' Jack slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle his moan, but he can't suppress a full-body shudder when Mark's fingers slide down his stomach, over the V of his hips, and wrap around his erection. 'O-oh, God, Mark..'

Jack can't do anything but cling to Mark's shoulders and whimper while the redhead slowly pumps his erection. 

Jack shifts, trying to thrust into Mark's grip, and the larger man pins his hips to the wall with one quick movement. 'No, baby. Stay still for me.' 

He's going torturously slow, and Jack is nearly brought to tears by how badly he wants Mark to go faster, to move. 

Mark seems to be enjoying testing the ways he can make Jack react- biting light bruises into pale skin, trailing his thumb over the head of Jack's cock, kissing his way up to Jack's ear to whisper filthy things to him, his voice low. 

'What do you want, Jackaboy?' The moan that escapes Jack's throat is nothing but wrecked. 'Please, Mark, I-I need- Please, please..'

'So pretty, baby boy. So good for me. Are you gonna cum for me, pretty baby?'

A broken whimper escapes Jack's lips. 'F-fuck, Mark, God.. S-say-' He buries his face against Mark's neck, writhing against the other man and moaning desperately, biting his tongue to keep from begging. 

'Say what, Jack?'

Jack lets out a frustrated groan. Mark knows exactly what he wants- He gives it away by calling him Jack. The bastard. 

'Fuck, please.. Say m' name, Mark, fuckin'- A-ah, oh, God, please.. Say my name.' Mark pulls away from sucking a deep purple bruise into Jack's neck to purr in his low baritone. 'Jack.' 

Jack lets out a desperate sob, clinging to Mark's hoodie as he thrusts into the taller man's hand. 'No, ye fu- M' real name. God, please, Mark, say m' real name, I'm so c-close, Mark, shite, please, pl-' Mark's voice is low, rough, and so goddamn desperate when he speaks. 'Seán, pretty baby. Cum for me, Seán.' 

And God help him if that isn't all it takes to push Jack over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, when I started writing this, I wanted it to be way more angsty than it ended up being. In fact, when I started writing, it wasn't going to be smut at all. But hey, that's fine. That just means the next chapter will be really angsty. 
> 
> Also I apologize if it seems short, or rushed. It's 5:30am as of right now, and I'm.. Quite tired. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, lovely people! 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys so much for reading! If you liked it, punch that Kudos button in the face, like a boss! 
> 
> So thank you and I will see all you dudes.. In the next chapter!


End file.
